Suffering in Silence
by kokoda2007
Summary: The brothers are between hunts. Sam is unwell. Really, just an excuse for some sick Sam. As requested, story now continuing for some added limp Sam and Dean angst,comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I recently finished a sick Dean story, and following on from numerous requests, I am now delivering a sick Sam. Hope you all enjoy !!!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Chapter 1**

Sam was researching in the library when it hit him.

Without pity.

Without warning.

A wave of intense nausea washed across his whole body. He couldn't be sick here, he thought. No, not in the quiet surrounds of the local library. He swallowed convulsively as he gathered his laptop and notes, pushing the collection of library books into a neat pile at the side of the desk.

He stood up gingerly, hoping that the nausea would pass, or at least abate until he was in a place affording him a greater measure of privacy. Taking deep breaths, he slowly, tentatively, made his way to the exit, relishing the fresh air and gentle breeze once he was outside.

He sent up a silent pray, thanking God, that he had made a dignified exit from the library. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that he still had almost an hour until he was due to meet Dean.

Easing down onto the wooden bench in the garden area bounding the library building, Sam continued to concentrate on his deep even breathing. His stomach was churning and a fine film of sweat was breaking out on his forehead.

Suddenly he lost his fight, and a surge of intense nausea hit him. The bile quickly rose in his throat, and he barely had time to duck behind a shrub before the vomit was violently expelled from his mouth. Fortunately, for all of its intensity, the bout of vomiting ended almost as suddenly as it began.

Making a quick attempt to kick some leaves over the mess on the ground, Sam moved away, not wanting the vile smell to insight another bout of sickness.

He moved to sit on another wooden bench, this one far enough away that he could almost ignore the fact that he'd been sick. Almost. He still had that hideous after taste in his mouth. The distinctive flavour that sticks to your tongue to remind you of what has passed. Like he needed a reminder.

Grabbing his bottle of water from his bag, he took a sip, swirling it around his mouth before discretely spitting behind the seat. He repeated the process, trying to rid his mouth of the awful taste. He then took a small mouthful of water, and swallowed slowly. The nausea seemed to have passed, but he wasn't confident enough to take any chances. Hopefully, if he took just the small sip of water it would stay down.

Reaching for his phone, he called Dean. Maybe, he'd be able to come and pick him up early. He really didn't relish the thought of walking the half dozen or so blocks back to their cheap motel.

Dean picked up on the third ring. "Yeah" he answered, in his usual distracted manner when they weren't in the middle of a hunt.

"Hey Dean" he replied. "I'm finished here. Any chance of picking me up early?"

"Yeah, I'll swing by in five." Dean replied before disconnecting the call.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Sam was waiting for Dean in front of the library when he pulled up a few minutes later. After a few consecutive hunts, they were both weary and tired. They'd pulled into town yesterday evening, stopping at the cheap hotel at the edge of town. As they were here, and needed a couple of days to restock and rest, they thought they might as well scope the town out, see if there were any potential gigs for them in the area. They'd both drawn a blank. It appeared, there really was 'nothing' happening in this dead end town.

Dean wasn't really upset that they hadn't lined up their next gig. He'd checked out the local bar, just a block from the hotel, and it looked promising for a little 'relaxation' later in the evening.

Dean pulled into the cheap motel, parking the Impala directly in front of their room. Whilst Sam had been at the library, he'd purchased the necessary supplies to restock their first aid kit, and picked up a few chocolate bars and a packet of chips. Grabbing his purchases, he followed Sam into the dingy room. Tossing his purchases on the table, he stood in the middle of the room and looked around. He really didn't want to spend any more time than necessary confined in this room. He noticed that Sam had laid his lanky form out on his bed, folding his arms behind his head in a relaxed pose.

"Hey Sam, want to go get some grub?" he asked

"Nah, I might grab a couple extra hours sleep" Sam replied, stretching comfortably on the narrow bed.

"Yeah, well I'm starving. Want me to bring you anything back?"

"I'll wait for dinner …. you know that's only a couple of hours away, don't you?" Sam answered.

"Yeah, well I'm hungry now" Dean replied petulantly. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, and we'll go grab some dinner and a few beers."

Dean quickly made his exit, preventing any further conversation with Sam. He was more than happy to have a couple of hours to go chat up the waitress he'd met at the café when they'd had breakfast this morning. Much easier to chat up a hot babe without Sam towing along.

Sam smiled to himself. He knew exactly what was on Dean's agenda. His brother had a one track mind, and he'd seen how the waitress from this morning and his brother had looked at each other. Yeah, he knew exactly what sort of plans Dean was hoping for this afternoon. He was happy though to have a couple of hours to himself. His stomach still felt slightly unsettled, and a couple of hours rest should cure him.

Sam closed his eyes and made himself comfortable on the surprisingly soft bed. He was still feeling weary and a little bruised after the last couple of intense hunts, and his body welcomed the additional rest. It didn't take long for Sam to settle into a light slumber.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The shrill ring of his phone woke Sam from a deep sleep. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the sky was darkening – it was dusk already. Groggily rising from the bed, he grabbed his mobile, to see Dean's name displayed on caller ID.

"Yeah" he answered, still half asleep.

"Hey Sammy, did I wake you?" Dean asked in a suspiciously chirpy voice.

Sam knew that Dean had "got lucky" or was about to. There was no other reason that Dean would sound so happy in this dead end town.

Not wanting to put a dampener on Dean's night, Sam pre-empted Dean's request. "Hey Dean, I'm still really tired. Do you mind going out tonight without me?"

"Yeah okay. I'll see you later tonight, or maybe, you know, tomorrow morning..." The last part said with a soft smirk. Sam could hear feminine giggles in the background.

"Yeah Dean. Have a good one." Sam replied, letting Dean know that he was fully aware of what he was up to.

After ending the call, Sam went back to the bed, grabbing the TV remote on his way. He was happy to have a couple of hours to himself. Maybe he'd watch TV or catch up on checking his emails. Stretching out again, Sam switched on the TV and lost himself in some mindless TV program.

After an hour or so of TV, he was feeling restless. It should be time for him to be thinking about grabbing some dinner, but he wasn't really hungry. He still felt slightly queasy, and didn't want to risk his still fragile feeling stomach with any food. Particularly not the type of fast food he was likely to find around here. Last night Dean had salivated with gusto over a greasy burger, whilst, unable to find anything that looked appetising, he'd settled for a pre-made chicken and salad sandwich.

Yeah, he thought, probably better to skip dinner.

He decided to take a long hot shower. With Dean not here, he wouldn't have to listen to his bitching about using all the hot water. Strolling into the bathroom, he was disappointed to see the dingy excuse for a bathroom with the tiny shower cubicle. Maybe a short shower, he thought, in anticipation of folding his long frame into such a confined space.

The water was hot and the shower and steam was what he needed after the day he'd had. He stood under the invigorating water, letting it cascade over his back, easing the aches from his tired muscles. After more than few minutes in the hot shower, Sam found that the heat was making him feel dizzy and a little woozy. Quickly shutting off the water, he stepped out of the shower, having to quickly grab at the towel rail to starve off another sudden wave of dizziness.

He really wasn't feeling too great. His stomach was empty after his earlier bout of nausea, and he knew this accounted for his current feeling of light headiness. He still didn't feel ready to tempt his fragile feeling stomach with some food, even plain food, but he knew he should probably try to drink something.

After quickly drying himself and pulling on a clean pair of sweats and t-shirt, he filled a glass of water and carried it to the table. It was still early; he'd work on his laptop for a while before going back to bed.

Sam sipped the water as he worked. After the first few tentative sips, he realised his thirst and gulped down the remainder of the water. It took only a few moments for him to realise his mistake. The bile rose quickly in his throat. Grasping his mouth with his hand, he made a mad dash back to the bathroom. Sinking to his knees in front of the toilet, he lost what little there was in his stomach in a violent assault. When there was nothing left to come up, he dry heaved repeatedly whilst silently willing his body to recognise the futility of the act.

Exhausted, the heaving finally came to an end and he slumped against the wall next to the toilet. He felt drained of all energy, and the effort to move from his resting place was just too great. He closed his eyes, deciding to rest for just a few minutes.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam slowly came awake some time later, the damp from the bathroom tiles seeping into his bones making his achingly cold. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. It took him a few moments to recognise where he was, and a few more to realise that he had fallen asleep where he had slumped, exhausted next to the toilet.

Disgusting. He hadn't even flushed.

He stood slowly, and reached to flush the toilet, making the mistake of looking down.

He gagged.

He swallowed.

He was helpless to stop the vomit that rose again in his throat. Almost detachedly, he again kneeled on the floor as his stomach revolted against its contents. A lone tear slid from the corner of his eye as he struggled against the hopelessness of the situation.

He continued to heave for what felt like an eternity, until the acid bile was burning a path along the back of his throat. He clamped his hand against his stomach, holding the straining muscles tightly.

When his ordeal was finally over, silent tears were running unheeded down his face. He swiped them away with the back of his hand.

Struggling to stand, he determinedly cleaned up all evidence of his sickness. Stripping off his clothes and throwing them into the corner of the bathroom, he turned on the shower, and stood under the warm water. Unwilling to have a repeat performance of his earlier dizziness after a long shower, he got out as soon as he felt clean. Drying himself briskly, he went into the bedroom and pulled on a clean pair of boxers.

He sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his tired head into his hands. He still felt like crap.

Getting unsteadily to his feet, he made his way over to the small kitchenette tucked into the far end of the room.

He felt dizzy.

Detached from his body.

His vision blurred.

He blinked in an effort to focus.

Swaying, he wondered if Dean would be coming back tonight.

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **Many thanks for the reviews. Please, keep them up. I need encouragement to keep the writing going. Sorry, this chapter is a little short, but the next one will be longer with lots more Dean input.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Chapter ****2**

Sam supported himself by leaning against the bench. Grabbing the closest glass, he poured himself some water from the tap, quickly swallowing a small tepid mouthful.

Maybe it was better if Dean didn't see him like this, he thought, once again returning to the bathroom, preparing for the next onslaught.

He sat on the edge of the bath, too tired to bother with the effort of standing. Now, not only could he feel the churning of his stomach, but he was sure he could also hear the disturbing sound of the contents swishing from side to side.

He needed a bucket, he thought, unsure now whether he was going to hurl or shit. Yeah, the trash bin would do, he reflected, eyeing it under the sink with distaste.

He grabbed the trash can and locked the bathroom door, before settling himself down gingerly. He knew he was in for a rough time; it seemed now that his body wanted to expel its contents through both ends.

As he waited for the onslaught to begin his mind wandered. A small smile escaped as his mind drifted to Dean, wondering what he was doing now. It didn't take much imagination; Dean had enjoyed sharing snippets of information often enough. At least he knew Dean was having a lot more fun that he was right now. Not that he'd wish his current dilemma on any one.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam stayed in the same position until he was forced to move to empty the offending trash bin.

He was exhausted, and his stomach ached from the relentless onslaught it had endured. He felt sweaty and he shivered whilst his whole body trembled from fatigue. As dog-tired as he was, he was unable to resist the lure of a quick shower to wash away the sweat and sickness from his body.

Stripping off, again, Sam eased himself under the warm spray of water, letting the spray run over his face, rinsing his mouth. His hands were trembling as he brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. Quickly shutting off the water, lest he be tempted to stay in there all night, he stepped out, grabbing his towel. After a cursory pat dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist before making his was slowly back to his bed. Slipping under the covers, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

God no, he thought, as he was harshly awoken a short time later. Dashing to the bathroom, he endured a repeat performance of his earlier episode.

Dizzily, he splashed cold water over his face and rinsed his mouth when it was finally over. Taking a small sip of water, he hoped it would stay down. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

It was a slow trip back to his bed, as the room spun and his head throbbed. It was a relief to finally be back under the covers.

His relief was short lived though. It seemed that every time he drifted to a comfortable sleep, he was roused by his churning guts, necessitating a stumbling dash back to the now hated bathroom.

Dawn was finally breaking when Sam again made another return trip to his bed, hoping that this time he could stay under the welcoming sheets. Each trip to the bathroom had become more difficult, with the dizziness increasing and the fatigue more debilitating.

TBC.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: **Thanks again for the reviews. Feedback feeds the muse! Well, this is chapter 3 – could be the last chapter, or I could continue, making Sam more sick than first thought – complications? Let me know what you want. Is this the end, or should I continue?

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Chapter 3**

The scent of sickness permeated the air, and it hit Dean as soon as he opened the door to the hotel room.

The satisfied smirk left his face as he strode purposefully over to Sam's bed. Glancing at the tangled mess of limbs and sheets, he laid a hand on Sam's sweaty forehead, immediately recognizing the slight fever.

Shaking his brother gently, he was relived to hear the soft moan and be greeted by Sam's sleep filled eyes, opening just a fraction to look back at him.

"Dean?" he mumbled.

"Yeah Sammy …hey dude, you're sick …why didn't you call me?" He asked gently, continuing to assess Sam's condition.

"Nothing you could do …God, …wish I hadn't eaten that chicken salad sandwich."

Dean grinned. "Told you burgers were good for you. Maybe next time you listen to your big brother."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Hey dude, …really, how're you feeling?" Dean asked with genuine concern.

"Like ..ah …road kill." Sam mumbled. "I … ah ... do you think we could stay here like for another day or so?"

"Well, I'm not going to have you puking in my car."

"Nice Dean." Sam replied, closing his eyes and settling down for some more sleep. Might as well sleep whilst I can, he thought.

Sam continued to drift in a hazy half-sleep, half-awake state, listening to Dean bustling around the room. He acquiesced soundlessly when he felt Dean stick a thermometer in his ear, and place a damp cloth on his forehead. Finally, when Dean settled down, Sam drifted to a deeper sleep.

**o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The sound of the motel room door clicking shut and the scent of coffee suffusing the air woke Sam from blessed oblivion.

Swallowing back his nausea, he watched as Dean deposited the cups of coffee and a half eaten donut onto the small laminate table. Dean then shoved the rest on the donut into his mouth sloppily, before bringing the second cup of coffee to his bedside table.

He wasn't sure if it was the scent of the coffee making him nauseous again, or the sight of Dean's open mouth roughly chewing the donut, crumbs falling to the floor.

Sam pushed down the sheets, reading himself for another dash to the bathroom. Looking down, he was embarrassed to notice that he was still only wearing the towel around his waist. Embarrassment was short lived however, as his churning guts suddenly became more insistent. He swung his legs to the floor, standing quickly, before he was lurching sideways, struggling to find his equilibrium.

Seeing his predicament, Dean quickly shot out a hand to steady his trembling brother.

"Bathroom." Sam stated with urgency.

Propping his arm around his brother, offering the needed support without question, Dean steered his brother into the bathroom, hovering just inside the door.

"Thanks Dean …ah … I can take it from here." He blushed.

"You sure Sammy? …Cause you know I've had plenty of practice changing your diapers." Dean chuckled on his way out of the bathroom. "Hey, call if you need me …but seriously dude … you're on your own with the diapers." Was said in jest; through the now thankfully closed door.

"Oh, and Sammy. Don't lock the door."

"It's Sam."

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam spent nearly an hour paying homage to the toilet, before taking the opportunity to shower and shave. He really felt like crap and was hoping the ritual cleansing would at least improve his outward appearance. Shaving was a necessary step in his fight for normality, but was made difficult by the slight tremor to his hands and the occasional chill that racked his body. It was worth it however, as he did feel slightly improved when he'd completed these basic tasks.

Wrapping the damp towel around his waist, he returned to the bedroom, seeking out some fresh clothes to complete the now clean package.

Dean was perched on the bed, cleaning their weapons when Sam entered the room.

"Disturbing performance Sammy. Feel any better?" Dean asked, looking inquiringly at this brother.

Sam felt the heat of a flush stain his neck and face. "Yeah Dean, I feel just great." He replied sarcastically, burying his face in his bag, searching for clothes whilst trying to hide his telltale flush of embarrassment that Dean had borne witness to his latest episode.

Sam quickly dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, acknowledging the fact that he wouldn't be leaving the room any time in the near future. Exhausted by his efforts, he returned to his bed, TV remote control in hand. Might as well get as comfortable as I can, he thought; he was going to be here a while.

Sam divided his attention between the TV program and watching Dean clean their weapons. He was bored.

"Hey, I know I got all the looks, but quit staring." Dean barked at him.

"Just making sure you're doing a good job …" Sam shot back.

"Yeah, good one. Next time I'll let you clean the guns …" Dean grinned back.

"Nah, you're good." Sam replied quickly.

Sam went back to watching the TV, struggling to ignore his growing thirst. As much as he wanted a drink, he was afraid to put anything in his stomach, even plain water. A few moments later, licking his parched lips, he decided to try for a small cup of water, thirst overcoming any possible consequences. Acknowledging his previous feeble attempt of getting out of bed, Sam this time rose slowly, using the bed head for support. The room swum alarmingly for a moment, before Sam managed to bring everything back into focus.

Dean was at his side in an instant, fearful that Sam would fall after watching his swaying rise from the bed. He hovered just at Sam's side, ready to lend a hand if it was needed.

Sam took a step away from the bed towards the kitchen, grabbing onto Dean for support when he felt momentarily dizzy.

"Bathroom?" Dean asked.

Licking his dry lips; "water" Sam croaked.

"I'll get it" Dean stated in exasperation. "You should've asked. It's not like I'm not right here."

Dean helped ease Sam back down onto the bed before fetching him the glass of water.

"Thanks Dean" Sam whispered, tentatively taking a small sip before placing the glass on the table beside the bed.

"You sure this is just food poisoning?" Dean asked in concern, taking in his brother's weakened state.

"Yeah, I'm sure. …not like this isn't the first dose I've ever had." He responded with a grimace, reflecting on past episodes. With the traveling that he and Dean did, and the dives they often ate in, it was surprising really that they didn't get sick more often.

"How is it that you get food poisoning more often than me?" Dean asked rhetorically.

Sam looked at Dean blankly, unaware that someone was keeping count.

"You must just have a weaker stomach …need to toughen you up on more manly solid food. …That girly lettuce stuff obviously doesn't do you any good." Dean smirked.

"Yeah, and you've never gotten sick from a burger" came Sam's sarcastic reply.

"I don't know, …at least with a nice greasy burger, you get to experience pleasure before the pain."

"Dean" Sam held back a groan. "Bathroom." He gasped, trying to get out of the bed quickly.

Dean rushed to Sam's side, assisting him back to the bathroom. "You know the drill." Dean said "Don't lock the door … yell if you need me."

Sam closed the door on his brother, grateful for his brother's presence.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**A/N: This could be the end of the story. I'm unsure; should I keep in short****, or should I continue? Please review and let me know.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Thanks for the reviews and suggestions that have inspired me to continue this story. For all those reviewers who wanted Sam to get sicker (how cruel, ha ha) and Dean to be there to comfort him, this is for you._

_Please please please review – I live for feedback._

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Chapter 4**

Sam felt he had a routine now, although that didn't make things any easier. He felt like crap, and knew there was nothing he could do except wait it out.

He sat back on the cold bathroom floor tiles, within easy reach of the toilet. There was no point in getting up until he was sure the latest bout was over. Vomiting was becoming more painful with every session of retching. There was precious little in his stomach, but his body was determined to extract every ounce from within. His whole body now felt racked with pain, from his exhausted stomach muscles, aching head, to his tired limbs. Hanging his head to rest on his arms, he sat quietly, waiting out the tremors running through his body. Waiting for it to end.

"Sam. …Sam" the incessant banging on the door reverberated through Sam's aching head. "Sammy, you okay in there? …I'm coming in" Dean stated determinedly.

"I'm okay ..I'll be out in a minute." Sam responded; Dean's banging having roused him. He must have slipped into a doze, he thought, climbing hesitantly to his feet.

Sam held tightly onto the sink for support as the room swam in and out of focus. He splashed some cold water on his face, hoping it would clear the fuzziness in his head. Taking a small sip of water from his cupped hand, Sam knew he must be starting to feel the effects of dehydration. He hadn't been drinking very much, and what he had drunk, hadn't stayed down. He took another small tentative sip of water.

He had to muster all his strength to let go of the sink support, and make his way to the bathroom door. He wanted to put on a stronger facade in front of his brother. Grasping the door frame for support, Sam opened the door quietly before making his way back to his bed.

Dean stood by and watched as his brother weaved his way back to bed, ready to jump in and catch him should he fall. Sam seemed unaware of how unsteady he appeared to be on his feet, and Dean decided to leave him with a little pride and dignity – this time. Going to Sam's bedside, Dean took in Sam's pallor and sunken features with concern.

"Sam, maybe you should see a doctor." Suggested Dean; knowing that Sam was unlikely to agree to the notion.

"I'm just exhausted Dean. Should be better in a couple of days." Sam replied, stifling a yawn. His whole body ached, and he really just wanted to sleep for a few hours. He just needed a few hours rest from the pain.

Dean looked at Sam, assessing his condition. "Will you be right if I go to the store for ten minutes?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Yeah Sam, I can plainly see that." Dean replied sarcastically.

"Bite me" was Sam's mumbled response.

"Nah, don't want to get sick." Dean jabbed back, grabbing his keys and leaving the room.

Sam rolled to his side and clutched his stomach, trying to lessen the pain. Moaning, Sam buried his head in his pillow, closed his eyes and waited for the oblivion that he hoped would come with sleep.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean returned quietly to the room 15 minutes later. He would have been quicker, but had decided to stop and extend their room stay by another couple of days.

Dean noticed immediately that Sam had curled into a fetal position clutching a pillow. He was obviously in a light restless sleep, moaning and mumbling.

Dean grabbed his newly purchased supplies, and poured a glass of electrolyte drink for Sam. Taking the drink and a packet of Tylenol over to his brother's bed, Dean sat on the edge, looking closely at his brother. He really didn't want to wake him; however his sleep hardly seemed peaceful. Lightly brushing Sam's hair from his face, and running his fingertips through the shaggy mop, Dean gently spoke Sam's name a few times in an attempt to rouse him from sleep.

Sam rolled towards Dean's stroking hand, seeking reassurance in the familiar touch. He could hear Dean's voice saying his name, but was reluctant to open his eyes, enjoying this moment of comfort between the rounds of pain.

"Sammy, open your eyes."

Sam reluctantly opened his eyes to Dean's incessant command, immediately resulting in a cessation of the comforting touch. Yeah, thought Sam, couldn't have any touchy feeling moments when he was actually awake and coherent.

Sam looked at Dean, wanting to know what was so important that he had to be pulled from the soothing moment.

Dean held up the glass of electrolyte drink and two tablets that he wanted Sam to take.

"Sam, you need to drink some of this and I picked up some Tylenol to help with the pain. It'll help you sleep easier."

Sam eased his shoulders up the bed and took the offered glass and tablets. Taking a small sip, he quickly swallowed the Tylenol before going to hand the glass back to Dean.

"No, you've got to drink a little more" insisted Dean.

Sam was too weary to argue. Under Dean's scrutiny, he continued to take small mouthfuls of the drink until Dean willingly took the glass back from him.

"Try to get some more sleep" Dean said, pulling the bed covers up over Sam's chest.

"Thanks Dean" mumbled Sam, already on his way back to sleep.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The routine was set for the next couple of days. Dean continued to loiter restlessly around the room, plying Sam with fluids and Tylenol at regular intervals. Sam spent the majority of his time in bed, between the now less frequent trips to the bathroom.

It was a relief to both brothers, when about half a week from the onset; Sam seemed to be on the road to recovery.

Dean was so sick of the crappy motel room and was eager for Sam to be getting up and about. He thought he'd go stir crazy if he had to spend much longer in the room, the motel, hell, even the crappy town. He wanted OUT now.

Watching Dean trying to entertain himself in the cramped motel room had gone from amusing to annoying for Sam. Dean was like a caged tiger; he couldn't just sit and read or watch TV. No, he had to fiddle and play with things, and had systematically been demolishing things within the room – pulling at threads, tearing up magazines to throw paper balls at furniture targets and tossing m-m's into light fittings. He knew that Dean was impatient for them to be on their way.

Sam now felt immeasurably better that he had over the last few days. The worst of the symptoms seemed to have nearly dissipated, just leaving him feeling weak and tired. He'd like nothing better than to just rest up for a couple more days, but doubted he would be allowed such luxury, at least, not in peace anyway. As much as he wanted to rest, it wasn't possible to really relax with Dean in the room, prowling restlessly. He knew he would probably get more sleep in the Impala, Dean being occupied with the driving.

Feeling a little guilty for having gotten sick and keeping them holed up in the first place, Sam decided that he needed to give a bigger effort to be back on his feet.

Just as an m-m came sailing through the air to hit him on the top of the head, Sam decided it was time to get up and pull his reluctant body back in to the world of the living.

"Hey, I'm gonna take a shower." Sam said, making his way towards the bathroom. "You wanna grab us some dinner?"

Dean was enthused that Sam seemed a little perkier, and had actually instigated the mention of food. "Yeah, what do you feel like? Pizza, burger …?"

"Anything will do …anything plain." He threw back, before closeting himself in the bathroom.

Sam wasn't really all that enthused about eating dinner, but knew he had to eat to recover his strength. He just hoped that Dean did bring back something he could face eating. He still felt ridiculously weak, and needed to gather his strength before they found another hunt. At the moment, frustratingly, if he stood or turned too quickly, he became dizzy, but he felt this would pass as he got some more nutrients inside of him.

He took a long lazy hot shower, relishing the feeling of the soothing water. He didn't realize how long he'd been in there until Dean started banging on the door.

"Hey, don't use all the hot water …I got food."

"Yeah, I'll just be a minute." Sam yelled back, quickly shutting off the shower before toweling himself dry. He felt dizzy after standing under the hot water for so long, and had to hang his head low in an effort to gain his equilibrium before going to join Dean in the next room.

Tossing on some clean clothes, he turned hopefully to the bag on the table, wondering what Dean had got him.

"Toasted cheese sandwich." Dean said, noticing Sam's trepidation in opening the food bag.

"Thanks Dean." Sam said, opening the wrapper and retrieving the sandwich.

Sam took small tentative bites of the sandwich, savoring the taste, but cautious about his stomach's ability to digest the food. After nearly half an hour of small bites, Sam had finished the complete sandwich, and leaned back in satisfaction. It felt good to fill the empty hollow feeling in his stomach.

Dean followed Sam's eating progress, satisfied that Sam seemed to be recovering. "Might as well think about heading out in the morning" he stated, seeking a response from Sam.

Sam looked at Dean, seeing his eagerness for a positive response. "Yeah, might as well."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Waking the next morning, Sam was pleased to note the absence of nausea. Glancing across at the next bed, he saw that Dean was already up, and both their bags were packed and placed neatly on the end of the now vacant bed. Yeah, he thought, Dean's definitely planning to hit the road ASAP. Looking around, he spied the scribbled note from Dean letting him know that his brother had just ducked out for coffee.

Swinging his legs of the bed and standing quickly, Sam was assaulted by a wave of intense dizziness. Clutching at the wall for support, he was thankful that his brother wasn't here to witness his momentary weakness.

Making his way to the bathroom, Sam wiped his hand across his tired eyes. Even though he'd had a full nights sleep, he still felt fatigued. Looking in the mirror, Sam had to admit that he still looked like crap too. Quickly shaving and washing his face, he tried to bring his appearance back into a look of normality.

A bit of grooming later, and the image in the mirror was much improved. He might feel like crap, but it didn't mean he had to look like crap too, he thought.

Hearing Dean enter the adjacent room, Sam took a deep breath, before joining his brother.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Dean had bustled Sam out of the motel room quickly, as if afraid staying in the room too long would cause Sam a relapse and prevent them from leaving.

They'd been on the road a couple of hours, and although Sam had slept a little, he was ready for a break. Finding a comfortable position in the car when your whole body still ached wasn't easy, and Sam was starting to regret agreeing to leave the motel today. In contrast to his discomfort, Sam noticed that Dean had a cheerfulness about him that he hadn't seen in a few days. Behind the wheel of his beloved car with his music blaring, Dean was in his element.

Discretely rubbing his aching head with his hand, he asked "Could you turn the music down Dean?"

Turning down the volume, Dean glanced across at Sam in concern. "You feeling okay Sammy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine …just a bit tired."

Sam closed his eyes, letting the fatigue wash over him. He was hoping desperately that Dean didn't want a long day of driving. Struggling to find a comfortable position, Sam unconsciously rubbed his aching stomach and chest in an attempt to alleviate the pain radiating through his body.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam woke slowly when Dean brought the car to a stop small at a gas station on the outskirt of some small town. Just before going to pay for the gas, Dean noticed Sam was finally awake. "Want anything?" Dean asked, indicating with a tilt of his head the small shop attached to the gas station.

Stretching in the confined space, Sam took a moment to comprehend Dean's question. "Ah …just a bottle of water" he replied, before opening the car door. Standing quickly, he was glad to have the car for support when the dizziness returned. "I'm just gonna use the rest room" he said as Dean was walking away from the car.

Sam was relieved that Dean didn't see his first failed attempt to leave the support of the car door. He felt faint and tried to take deep breaths to steady himself. Pain radiated through his chest, and he had to bend over double to relive some of the discomfort. Taking a few shallow breaths, it took a couple of minutes before Sam was able to make his way to the rest rooms behind the gas station.

Sam only took a few moments in the rest room, not wanting Dean to have to come looking for him. Making his way slowly back to the car, he considered asking Dean if they could stop for the day, even though it was only lunch time.

On reaching the car, Sam could see Dean still inside the small shop, chatting to the young female cashier. Dean was incorrigible, he thought, before painfully easing himself back into the car. Rubbing a hand over his chest and left shoulder, he tried to ease the cramping pain radiating through him.

Sam was sitting quietly in the car with his head against the window when Dean finally returned. Tossing him the bottled water, Sam struggled to catch it, his reflexes slow. The water was blessingly cold though, and Sam took a moment to wipe the bottle against his brow.

Sam's actions didn't go undetected by Dean, who quickly placed a hand on Sam's forehead before he could protest. "You feel a little hot there kiddo."

"I'm fine Dean." Sam protested automatically.

"Yeah right. …Are you going to puke?"

"Dean, I said I'm fine."

"Yeah whatever. I reckon we'll call it a day soon and find a motel." Dean stated emphatically, getting no argument from a relieved Sam.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

It was nearly two hours later that Dean eventually pulled the Impala to a stop in front of a moderate looking motel. As Dean went to the front office to get them a room, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He watched Dean drive past numerous motels, and had started to fear that he intended to drive until evening, even though they had no set destination.

Dean returned a few moments later, jangling the room keys. He drove the car quickly to their designated parking spot, directly in front of their room.

Sam was silently glad that he wouldn't have far to walk. Contemplating the easiest way to get his aching body from the car without toppling over, Sam was unaware that Dean had already popped the truck and grabbed their bags, waiting for Sam to make a move.

"Coming Sam?" Dean asked, watching Sam as he made no attempt to move from the stationary car.

"Yeah." Sam answered, opening the car door before using it to support himself to a stand. Gasping quietly, Sam tried to hide the pain he was in.

Dean watched as Sam struggled to get out of the car. He felt guilty for driving for so long, knowing that Sam was still recovering and not yet one hundred per cent fit. Opening the door to their room and dropping the bags inside, Dean quickly returned to Sam, wrapping an arm under Sam's shoulder to assist his brother into the room.

Supporting Sam to the bed at the far end of the room, Dean quickly became concerned at the heat radiating off his brother. Dean helped his brother lay back on the bed; "Sam, seriously, how're you feeling?" he asked.

"Dean, I don't feel so good" whispered Sam.

Placing a hand on his brother's fevered forehead, Dean was instantly concerned about how high Sam's temperature was.

Running a hand across Sam's damp hair and brushing it back from his face, Dean looked at Sam in concern. "Sam, I'm just gonna get the first aid kit from the trunk" Dean said, before hurriedly returning to the car.

Lying on the bed, Sam struggled to get the much needed air into his lungs. Every breath hurt, and the more he struggled to breathe, the greater the pain in his chest became. As a few dry coughs racked his body, Sam struggled with the darkness encroaching on the periphery of his vision. He hoped desperately that Dean would hurry back.

TBC.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing - luv you all. I read all reviews with eager anticipation, and really just can't get enough. _

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Chapter 5**

Struggling up from his prone position on the bed, Sam desperately yet almost silently called for Dean whilst struggling to catch his breath.

Sam shifted to sit on the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, supporting his aching head in his hands. This position helped to alleviate some of his chest pain, making catching his breath a little easier.

Trying to calm down, Sam concentrated on controlling his breathing, taking small regular breaths to carry that essential oxygen to his starving lungs. In, out, in, out, Sam mentally repeated to regulate his breathing, slowly bringing the pain under control.

Glancing at the motel door, he waited for his brother's return. He needed Dean.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean fished around in the trunk of the Impala, purposefully searching for their first aid box. Opening it, he then checked inside, confirming that they're returned the thermometer to its rightful place after they used it last. Grabbing the box, he slammed the trunk closed, hastily returning to their room.

Sam was now sitting hunched on the side of the bed, head slumped and hidden in his hands.

"Sammy?" questioned Dean on his approach to his obviously unwell brother.

Sam raised his pale face to his brother. Dean noticed the tears welling in Sam's eyes and the sweat beading on his forehead. Moving to Sam's side, Dean brushed his brothers locks aside and slipped the digital thermometer in his ear, waiting for the beep to sound.

Upon hearing the beep, Dean promptly removed the thermometer from Sam's ear, unsurprised to confirm that his brother did in fact have a temperature, although thankfully, not as high as he would have expected from Sam's ragged appearance.

Cupping a hand to the side of Sam's face Dean visually tried to assess his brother's condition, wondering whether he should take Sam to the local medical centre or hospital.

"Sammy, you never seem to cop a break do you. …you're running a bit of a fever. …How're you feeling?" Dean asked in concern.

"Dean" Sam gasped "I don't so great."

"Hospital …doctor?" questioned Dean, leaving this decision in Sam's hands, for now. He knew Sam was sick, but wasn't sure if a few hours wait to see a doctor at the hospital would help or exasperate his brother's fever.

"No." Sam was vehement in his reply. Sam hated hospitals with a passion and would only go as a last resort. No, he thought, he'd rest for a while and see how he felt later. He was already feeling slightly improved from earlier, and just hoped that the pain wouldn't come back with such fervor if he took things a little easier, maybe got some more rest.

Rubbing his still sore chest and shoulder, Sam was reluctant to change position and experience a return of the debilitating pain. "I think I must have pulled a few muscles with all the vomiting" Sam informed Dean.

"Yeah, and you've got a fever" Dean repeated dryly.

Handing Sam a couple of Tylenol, Dean went and filled a glass of water for Sam to wash them down with.

Sam swallowed the pills gratefully whilst maintaining his hunched position on the edge of the bed.

Dean watched Sam's obvious discomfort with guilt. He'd known deep down that Sam wasn't feeling that great this morning when he insisted that they leave the motel and hit the road. Then he'd driven for hours, even after he noticed Sam's increased fatigue and restlessness. He berated himself for his selfishness, and silently vowed to give Sammy the time he needed to get well before dragging him off again.

Sam felt Dean's eyes on him. "Quit staring at me" he said, without glancing up, "…I'm not a chick."

"Yeah, so Dad told me when he brought you home from the hospital, but you know…." teased Dean.

"Shut up Dean" Sam grumpily retaliated, slowly raising himself from the bed.

Dean felt instant remorse. God, what was his problem, he thought, mentally kicking himself. He was supposed to look out for Sammy, and here he was baiting his brother when he was already sick and suffering.

Sam gasped in pain as soon as he stood upright, forcing his body to bend over and hold his chest. Coughing dryly, Sam instantly regretted his idea of moving from the bed. Unfortunately, he needed to take a leak, and short of disgracing himself, he really needed to use the bathroom.

Looking for something to lean on, Sam was very grateful when Dean slipped an arm under his shoulders, supporting part of his weight.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Watching Sam achingly slow rise from the bed, Dean quickly raced to his side to prevent his inevitable topple face first to the ground. Staggering under the added weight, Dean took a moment to stabilize Sam's swaying movements.

"Bathroom?" he questioned, seeing the direction for which Sam was aiming.

"Yeah" confirmed Sam in a whisper.

After a slowly assisted shuffle across the room, Sam was grateful to finally reach his destination. "Thanks Dean." he said, untangling himself from Dean's support to enter the bathroom alone. Noticing that Dean remained at the doorway, he added "I can manage."

Dean reluctantly moved away from the bathroom door, but stayed within a few feet, ready to offer assistance if needed.

Sam closed the bathroom door. Dean paced restlessly on the other side.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam stared at his pale complexion in the bathroom mirror. He was starting to second guess his own earlier diagnosis, worried about the persistent pain in his chest. His whole body ached and he felt faint from battling the pain and dizziness. Even breathing hurt; aggravating the pain radiating from his chest.

After finishing in the bathroom, Sam was not surprised to find Dean hovering attentively near the door. Appreciative of the assistance, Sam accepted Dean's support and headed to sit at the table instead of going back to bed.

"Sam, you should probably try to get some more sleep" Dean stated in response to helping Sam onto the chair instead of the bed.

"Nah, I actually feel better sitting up" replied Sam, leaning forward to rest his aching head on his folded arms.

Dean moved to lie back on his own bed, enabling him to keep a close but discrete eye on his brother. Sam's apparent deterioration had him worried, and he was seriously starting to consider taking Sam to seek medical help. Resignedly, he decided that if Sam didn't improve in the next couple of hours, he was taking Sam to the hospital, regardless of any protestations. If Sam got any worse, then he was taking him immediately. Dean felt somewhat calmer having reached this decision.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam relaxed somewhat in his hunched position, until the kink in his back became too persistent to ignore. Still, Sam was reluctant to move, fearing a return of the stabbing chest pains.

The continued chest pains and difficulty taking deep breaths was starting to really worry Sam. When he was injured in a hunt at least he knew what he was facing. He felt real fear not knowing what was wrong and hated that he wasn't getting any better. He really loathed the thought of seeking medical help, terrified in case there was something seriously wrong. God he really, really hated hospitals.

He'd been sick for nearly a week now, and all things considered, Dean had been pretty good. Since he'd gotten sick, they hadn't accomplished a hunt, hadn't even looked for one. He knew Dean was restless and he hated the thought of burdening him further with a hospital visit. Dean really, really hated hospitals too.

Assessing all these factors in his head, Sam finally came to a decision. It was the fear of actually moving that tipped the scales. He would go to the hospital. If nothing else, they should at least be able to give him something for the pain. The Tylenol weren't even taking the edge off. Hesitantly, he wondered how best to broach the subject with Dean; not wanting Dean to worry, but also not wanting him to feel even more burdened. Not wanting Dean to feel that he was a weight that needed to be carried. God, he felt so pathetic and needy.

He rested a few more minutes.

Eventually, he acknowledged that he couldn't retain his awkward position forever, and at some stage he'd have to move, preferable before he was permanently crippled. Yeah, he needed to talk with Dean; get to the hospital.

"Dean" he said, without moving, head still resting on his arms.

"Yeah, …Sam?" questioned Dean, looking intently at his prone brother.

"Ah" Sam hesitated. "…I really don't feel so great …maybe …ah …hospital." Sam stuttered out as he braced himself with his hands on the table, coming to a slow rise.

The faintness assaulted his as soon as he raised his head.

Trying desperately to steady himself, he lurched, causing a sharp stab of pain to radiate through his chest. Gasping under the wave of pain, he struggled to catch his breath, clutching his chest as he fell towards the carpeted floor.

Dean watched in horror as Sam struggled upright, gasping and clutching his chest. Racing to his brother's side, he was too slow to prevent Sam's collapse to the floor, shuddering in panic at the sound of Sam's head banging on the side of the table on his journey to the floor.

"Sammy!…"

TBC

**A/N:** _Probably just one or two more chapters to go – next chapter we'll find out what's wrong with Sam. Hope you're enjoying the story. Please review- I've only just started writing (this is my 2__nd__ story, but I'm also writing a third at the same time) and I judge my stories on the reviews. Suggestions more than welcome._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _So continues my "short" sequel to the story I wrote about Dean having food poisoning._ _This is dedicated to all you fantastic reviewers out there who urged for continuance of limp Sam and seem to gain enjoyment, pleasure, glee…from seeing Sam in pain. Shame on you all. _

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

**Chapter 6**

"Sammy!…" Dean's yell reverberated around the shabby motel room.

Quickly kneeling by Sam's side, he placed a gentle hand on his unconscious brother's chest. A wave of relief washed over him as he felt the familiar thud of Sam's heart pumping blood throughout his body. Immediately Dean checked Sam's breathing, noting with terror that his brother was only taking small shallow breaths even though he was obviously out cold. A small vivid red bump was visible on Sam's pale forehead, evidence of his encounter with the table.

"Sammy" Dean repeated, desperation showing in his voice. "Sammy, wake up … open your eyes."

Sam could hear his brother's pleading voice rousing him from his weightless state. He fought the anxious call, reluctant to return to the world of pain.

Dean ran his hands over Sam's body, lightly shaking his shoulder, eager for a response.

"Come on Sammy …that's it …just open your eyes." Dean pleaded, impatient for some sign of reaction from Sam.

Sam's eyes slowly fluttered open as he fully returned to consciousness, the pain once again assaulting his weary body. Gasping in pain, he moaned, desperate for some relief from the ache in his chest and the hammering in his head. Breathing had suddenly become more difficult, and his current prone position was exasperating the heavy weight that seemed to have settled on his chest.

"Dean" he beseeched, the single word trembling from his lips, imploring in that single word for his brother to help him, but unable to muster the strength to say any more.

"Hang on Sammy, I'm calling for an ambulance." Dean reassured his trembling brother.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket, thankful for the strong reception.

Dean's fingers fumbled in his first attempt to dial 9-1-1. In frustration, he had to start again, cursing himself for wasting precious time.

Quickly and concisely he relayed the necessarily details to the 9-1-1 operator as she asked the questions, relieved when he was told that an ambulance was being dispatched and should arrive in only a few minutes.

He didn't bother staying on the line.

Dean didn't let go of his brother's hand until he heard the ambulance sirens directly outside, followed immediately by knocking on the door. For once, he gave a small prayer of thanks that they were in a motel in a town with medical services, and not in the middle of nowhere, which was all too often the case.

Reluctantly, he left his brother's side for just long enough to gain admittance to the paramedics, before following them back to his brother, kneeling down to run his hand over Sam's fevered brow. He answered their sharp questions concisely, without thought, providing them with essential information about Sam.

Dean was deaf to the words that passed between the paramedics as they continued to assess Sam's condition, so focused was he on just looking at Sam, reassuring himself that Sam was still alive. Everything had gone down hill so fast, and he'd shamefully done nothing to hinder that fall. He knew he should have gotten Sam to medical help sooner.

He knew that if Sam didn't get better, he'd have no one to blame but himself.

He'd failed to watch out for Sam. His brother. The only family he had left.

Dean didn't stir from his self induced trip of blame until his arm was forcefully shaken by one of the paramedics. Rapidly snapping out of his tunnel-vision induced haze, he blinked, focusing again on the events before him.

The paramedics already had Sam positioned and strapped onto a gurney, obviously ready to transport him. An oxygen mask was secured over his face, and thankfully Dean could see the condensation in the mask from his brother's breaths.

"Sir, we're going to take your …" the paramedic stated.

"Brother. Sam, he's my little brother." Dean interrupted.

"We're taking Sam to the hospital now. It's just a few blocks away. You can follow us in your car," the paramedic stated, inviting no argument.

Dean grabbed his car keys off the dresser, following his brother's journey out the door towards the waiting ambulance. Unwilling to be parted from Sam, Dean headed for the Impala as soon as the ambulance doors closed, determined to follow directly behind the ambulance, being there for Sam as soon as he arrived at the hospital.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The trip to the hospital was rough for Sam, each bump and movement jerking pain throughout his body. In despair, he closed his eyes, breathing shallowly through the oxygen mask. He didn't want to go to the hospital like this, drawing unnecessary attention to himself. He had just wanted to slip in, get a check-up, and the necessary medication needed to make him well. He didn't want to arrive with sirens blazing and people staring. Wearily, in a pain induced haze, he hoped that Dean would be there when he got to the hospital, and that …well…and that he'd just be there.

Sam again lightly slipped into unconsciousness.

The hospital was a hive of activity, and Dean struggled to stay by Sam's side throughout the preliminary examination, answering as many of the doctor's questions as he could. He stood by silently as Sam's shirt was cut from his body, reaching across without thought to take the discarded item of clothing. He stood by silently as hands traveled along his brother's body, touching and assessing. Sam slowly woke through the examinations, struggling to gain focus on his surroundings, struggling to breathe, struggling to answer the doctor's questions. Closing his eyes, Sam shut out his surrounding, instead chosing to focus on breathing, focus on managing the pain.

Dean stood by silently, unable to do anything to help his brother this time.

He was powerless.

He twisted and clutched Sam's shredded shirt in his fists, before tossing the offensive garment in the closest trash bin. He didn't need the reminder.

It was with a sense of relief when the gurney Sam was on finally came to a stop in a small room, and he was transferred to the waiting bed.

Privacy, of a sort, at last.

The doctor continued to examine his brother whilst nurses bustled around. Needles were inserted, blood drawn and an IV hooked up. Sam's eyes remained closed throughout most of the action, and Dean was concerned. He still hadn't been told what was wrong with Sam. No one had addressed him throughout this procedure, apart from asking questions about Sam's medical history, and his patience was wearing thin. It was only the fact that he didn't want to hinder the help that they were offering Sam that enabled him to keep quiet and just observe.

Enough was enough though, Dean thought, as his brother was stabilized and the frantic activity lessened. He needed information. He needed reassurance.

"Doctor?" he questioned; keen to remind the professional of his presence.

"Sorry Sir" the doctor replied absently, his attention still focused on Sam.

"Sir" a nurse interrupted awkwardly, "You need to fill out these forms" she said, thrusting a sheaf of hospital admission forms at Dean. "If you could wait out in the hallway for a moment, we just need to get your brother into a gown."

Resignedly, Dean took the offered pen and forms, and reluctantly moved out to the hallway, standing just outside the door. He didn't want to go any further. He needed to be near Sam …just in case …just in case Sam needed him. He proceeded to complete the required information, being as detailed as he could without drawing attention to unnecessary past injuries. He passed them back to the nurse a few minutes later when he was permitted back into the room. Sam was now clothed in a thin drab hospital gown, accentuating his pallor. His eyes remained closed as he rested in a propped position against the pillows on the raised hospital bed.

He had to wait patiently for a few more moments before the doctor finally moved from Sam's side to speak with him.

"Sir…" the Doctor spoke quietly to Dean.

"It's Dean."

"Dean. We've stabilized your brother for the moment. Sam was in a pretty bad way when he was brought in. He's very dehydrated, so we have him hooked up to an IV which should quickly give his body the necessary fluids. However, I am concerned about his other symptoms." Dean listened to the doctor acutely as he moved to his brother's side, taking a hold of his hand, offering reassurance of his presence. Offering Sam comfort.

The doctor continued once he was sure he had Dean's full attention. "Your brother has been experiencing chest pain and shortness of breath and, to be frank, I'm concerned about his heart."

The doctor's words invoked an unsurpassed feeling of panic in Dean. This was his brother. His baby brother. The brother he swore to protect. It took Dean a moment to get his panicked feelings under control and again focus his full attention on the doctor. He knew he needed to listen.

As the doctor continued, Dean idly stroked Sam's hair, listening intently.

"I understand that Sam has had a bout of Salmonella, …that is, food poisoning recently." The doctor stated, waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah, he's had it this last week, but he was getting over it …until this." Dean replied, moving his hand restlessly over Sam.

"It looks like Sam may have developed complications from the food poisoning" the doctor continued. "Complications occur when the Salmonella bacteria make their way into the bloodstream. Once in the blood stream, the bacteria can enter any organ system throughout the body; in your brother's case, the heart. A chest x-ray will give us more information, and now that he's stable, Sam will be taken down to x-ray shortly."

"But you can treat it right …Sam will get better?" Dean strived to keep the shake out of his voice, desperate to hear confirmation from the doctor.

"We should wait and see what the x-ray's show us. If your brother does have pericarditis …sorry, that's what we call the condition; then it means that fluid has collected in the pericardial sac, putting pressure on his heart. From my initial examination and from the description of his symptoms, I believe this is what has happened in your brother's case. The most common symptom of pericarditis is chest pain, which Sam has. The pain is predominantly felt below the breastbone and, or, below the ribs on the left side of the chest and, occasionally, in the upper back or neck. Breathing causes the lungs and heart to move in the chest and rub against the irritated pericardium, worsening the pain. As in Sam's case, pain often worsens when the patient lies down and may improve when they sit up and lean forward. Changes in position can increase or decrease pressure on and irritation of the inflamed pericardium," the doctor paused, giving Dean a moment to take in all the information.

"I don't, however, want to rule out any other causes of the chest pains, which is why I'm sending him down for an x-ray" continued the doctor.

"Yeah, okay" answered Dean. "But if he has it, you can treat it right?" Dean failed to keep the slight shake from his voice. He looked to the doctor, desperate to hear words of affirmation.

TBC

**A/N**. _Next and probably final chapter should be posted tomorrow. __Please__ review. Thanks._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters … **

"_Yeah, okay" answered Dean. "But if he has it, you can treat it right?" Dean failed to keep the slight shake from his voice. He looked to the doctor, desperate to hear words of affirmation. _

Continued…

**Chapter 7**

Panic infused through Dean's body as he waited desperately to hear the doctor's answer.

"Dean…" the doctor paused, carefully choosing his words. "Your brother is very sick at the moment, and until we carry out the x-ray and some other tests, I really can't conclusively give you a prognosis."

"But…" Dean spluttered, not happy with the doctor's non-committal response.

"However" the doctor continued as if he had not been interrupted. "If he has fluid around the heart, there are a number of treatments available to us. We can treat Sam with anti-inflammatory drugs and antibiotics. Depending of the severity and his response to this treatment, it may also be necessary to carry out a surgical procedure to remove the fluid build up in the sac around his heart."

"So, he'll recover, right?"

"Dean, I haven't even confirmed his diagnosis yet, …but yes, Sam's young and healthy and has a good chance of making a full recovery if he does in fact have pericarditis. Importantly though, Sam's still in a lot of pain at the moment, and as soon as we can diagnose him, and rule out other causes for the chest pain, then I'll be able to give him some pain relief. …He seems to be holding up surprisingly well considering the amount of pain I believe he is in." the doctor commented, looking over at Sam.

Sam drifted in and out of his pain induced haze. He could hear the voices around him, recognizing Dean's, but was unable to focus enough to make out the actual words. Instead, he concentrated on trying to relax his muscles and regulate his breathing. He knew Dean was here, and trusted him to take care of everything, leaving him free to let his mind drift and focus on managing the pain.

"Sam …Sam….Sam, can you hear me?" the doctor spoke decisively from the edge of his bed.

It took a moment for Sam to realize that he was expected to respond. With effort, he opened his eyes, giving silent acknowledgement to the doctor by his side.

"Good Sam. You're going to be taken down to x-ray now, so that we can see what's happing in your chest, okay?" the doctor gently informed him.

Sam gave a small nod in reply, instantly regretting it as soon as the thumping in his head escalated with the slight movement. Swallowing, he closed his eyes again, desperate to find relief from his aching body, needing every ounce of his waning energy to focus on managing the pain. A small tear slid unheeded from the corner of his eye before he could prevent it.

Dean moved to Sam's bedside, and grabbed his brother's hand, offering him strength. He used his thumb to brush away the small tear that escaped from Sam's eye, lightly stroking his cheek in an unconscious gesture.

"It's okay Sammy. I'll be right here when you get back." Dean whispered as the orderly arrived to take Sam down to x-ray.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean sat quietly in the hard plastic chair to start with, shifting constantly in the seat in an effort to find a comfortable position. He was never good at waiting, and within half an hour he had started pacing the small room. Sam should be back from x-ray by now, he thought, continuing his restless movements around the room.

An hour later and Dean was ready to climb the walls. He'd already counted the ceiling tiles, twice, rearranged the curtains, and shredded an old magazine. He wanted to leave the room and try to get some more information, but was fearful that Sam would be brought back and he would be absent. So he paced, glancing out the door and into the hallway every few minutes, hopeful every time someone walked past.

Dean was experienced enough with x-ray procedures to know that Sam had been gone too long. With their lifestyle, they'd both had numerous x-rays over the years, and he knew the whole process should take less than half an hour. Frustration was warring with anxiety, and Dean didn't know how much longer he could stay cooped up in this room without going down to x-ray himself and finding his brother. Indecision pulsed through him, as he weighed up the pros and cons of waiting in the room or seeking out Sam himself.

Fortunately, he was spared this decision as the door banged open and Sam's bed was wheeled back into the room. Immediately going to his brother's side, concern washed over him as he noticed Sam's increased pallor and glazed eyes. Holding Sam's hand, he watched silently as the orderly hooked up Sam's IV and other machinery and made sure he was settled on the bed.

"Hey Sammy. What took you so long?" Dean whispered, idly stroking his brother's limp hand.

Sam's glazed eyes stared back at him, obviously having difficulty focusing. "Deeaaan" he slurred out before closing his eyes.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm here." Dean replied, pushing the call button at the side of the bed.

A few moments later a nurse bustled in, moving quickly to Sam's bedside. "Everything alright?" she questioned in concern, checking his IV and monitors.

"He seems a bit out of it." Dean replied. "I need to speak to his doctor …can you call him?"

"He'll be back on the ward in a few minutes. He's just been down with your brother in the x-ray department" the nurse informed him calmly, giving him a warm smile. "As soon as I see him, I'll let him know you want to speak with him."

The doctor entered the room just as the nurse was leaving. Dean rose from his seat, anxious for news on his brother's condition.

"Dean" the doctor started, the tone in his voice eliciting fear in Dean. "I'm sorry you've had to wait so long."

"Just tell me doc…" Dean couldn't hold back his impatience.

"Sam took a bit of a bad turn down at x-ray, and it took us a little while to stabilize him again. …I've prescribed some pain-killers for your brother, which he's getting through his IV. That's probably why you'll notice that he's a bit groggy and disorientated. He'll be sleepy why he's on the medication, but if it's effective, we should hopefully be able to wean him off it in a few days."

"The x-rays?" Dean questioned.

"I've had a look at the x-rays, and Sam does have fluid around his heart, which is why I've already started him on a course of antibiotics and pain relief. We'll also be running a few more tests, and be monitoring him closely over the next 24 hours to see how he reacts to the medications" replied the doctor.

"So, he's gonna be …okay then?"

"Barring any complications, we now have to wait and see if the medications are effective in fighting the infection. If the antibiotics are successful in killing off the infection, the fluid in the sac around the heart will reduce, and Sam should make a full recovery without having to undergo surgery."

"Thanks doc" Dean said, the whole room suddenly seeming so much brighter.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean spent the next 24 hours by Sam's bedside, only leaving briefly to grab a coffee and snacks from the vending machine at the end of the hallway. Sam had been poor company, mumbling nonsense in his drug induced state, but Dean didn't mind. He listened to Sam's ramblings, answered his inane questions, and was just so grateful to have his brother on the road to recovery that he evened stayed in the room as Sam sang an out of tune song.

It was a relief to finally learn that the medications were effectively fighting off the infection, and that Sam should make a full recovery. Sam still looked pale and was obviously weak, but he was becoming more coherent as the level of pain medication was reduced. Dean could start to see the old Sam back again, and was eagerly anticipating the day when Sam would be well enough to leave the hospital.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

A couple of days later, Dean entered Sam's room, just as a young blonde nurse exited, carrying a small bowl and cloth.

"Sammy, sorry …did I interrupt something?" he asked, unable to hold back the teasing smirk.

"Yeah, right Dean." Sam replied, shifting uncomfortably with embarrassment.

"Did you get her number, cause you know, if she's already seen the goods, you might as well…"

"Shut up Dean."

"I'm only saying…"

"Dean, I said; shut up." Sam said hoarsely, the heated words causing a cough to rack through his frame.

Dean felt the remorse spread through his body as he helped Sam to sit up a little higher, easing the pressure in his chest. Sam held a hand to his chest, rubbing absently until the coughs subsided. Exhausted, with Dean's help, he eased back down onto the pillows.

Dean filled the small glass from the water jug at Sam's bedside, offering Sam the cool water. Gratefully, Sam sipped slowly from the straw, allowing the water to soothe its way down his throat. Passing the glass back to Dean, Sam closed his eyes for a moment, needing a few moments rest to regain his breath.

"Thanks Dean" he whispered, still not having the energy to open his eyes.

Dean observed Sam's pale complexion with guilt. He shouldn't be baiting Sam when he was still so sick. He was an arse of a brother. He was supposed to help Sam recover, not cause him more pain. Sam still looked so sick, his skin nearly translucent and his lanky frame too thin. Dean resolved to take better care of his brother once he was out of the hospital.

"Rest Sammy" he whispered, caringly stroking his brother's hair.

Sam loved it when Dean's fingers ran through his hair, absently massaging his scalp with every stroke. When he was younger, Dean used to do this to help him when he had trouble getting to sleep. As they'd gotten older, the gesture occurred less frequently, and Sam was sure that Dean only did it now unconsciously. It was too close to "chick-flick" for Dean, and he was sure that Dean would be embarrassed if he drew attention to the gesture, and stop immediately. Sam wasn't going to do that. The stroking reminded him of happier times, and the rhythmic stroking eased the pain and tension from his body. Relaxing into the touch, Sam drifted to sleep, a smile on his lips.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sam slept for about five hours, and Dean remained by his bedside the entire time, happy to watch his brother's peaceful slumber.

The nurses were a regular intrusion in the room, but Dean paid them little attention except for observing how they monitored his brother. Sam slept throughout these exams, not stirring when his temperature was taken or his IV checked. Dean watched him intently, not used to seeing Sam so still, even in sleep.

Although he knew Sam needed his rest, he was relieved when Sam blearily opened his eyes again. He still needed the reassurance that Sam was still with him, getting better.

"Hey Dean" Sam whispered. "You look like crap man."

"Right back at you bitch" Dean said quietly, his gentle tone in contrast to the harsh words.

"Jerk" Sam tossed back without a thought.

Sam smiled. He was feeling much better. Some of the pain in his chest had gone, and the persistent headache he'd had for days was now just a light throb behind his eyes. Taking a slow deep breath, Sam was relieved when the pain was now only an ache and no longer a debilitating spear of agony.

"Dean, I want to check out of here. Can you find the doctor …I want to be released." Sam said with conviction. He's had enough of the hospital, and now that he was feeling better, he was sure he could manage his recovery back in a motel.

Dean looked at Sam in horror. "NO. No way Sam." Shaking his head adamantly, Dean was appalled at Sam's suggestion.

"But Dean, I feel…" Sam started, interrupted by his doctor entering his room.

"Good afternoon Sam. So, how are you feeling?" the doctor asked whilst grabbing his chart from the end of the bed.

"Much better. I was thinking that maybe I could be discharged" Sam asked hopefully, assessing the doctor's reaction to his request.

The doctor asked Sam a number of questions, ascertaining Sam's level of pain and discomfort. Dean knew that Sam was lying through his teeth when he told the doctor that he was fine.

Fortunately for Dean, the doctor was not as gullible as Sam had hoped, shaking his head in dismissal of Sam's answers.

"Well, we'll see how you are tomorrow" the doctor answered. "You're still running a slight temperature, and I won't be happy to release you until that's at least back within a normal range."

Dean released the breath he's been unconsciously holding, relieved that Sam would be forced to stay in the hospital a little longer. Sam had given Dean a real scare this time, and he wasn't going to abet his brother's early release.

Sam stayed silent on the bed, knowing there was no way yet he could leave the hospital under his own steam. Without Dean's assistance, he was stuck here. As the doctor left, he shot his brother a resentful look, hoping to elicit a change of heart.

"Not gonna work Sammy" Dean said on seeing his brother's stare. "You heard what the doc said."

"If you'd help me, we could…" Sam started to say hopefully.

"Told you. Not gonna happen." Dean quickly injected, unwilling to discuss the matter further.

Sam huffed and switched on the TV.

Dean grinned as he settled back in his chair. Yeah, his little brother was back. From now on, he vowed to himself, he'd take better care of Sammy. It was, after all, his responsibility to look out for the kid.

END.

**A/N:** _Thank you to everyone who's followed this story. I really appreciate the reviews, and would love a __final review__ with feedback on the completed story (as this is only the second complete story I've written). Any suggestions for my future fiction will be welcomed. Do we want more limp Sam?_


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